


Recovery

by girahimu_sama



Series: Post-Canon Thiefshipping Oneshots [4]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M, Thiefshipping, hurt/comfort smut?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 09:59:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5581432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girahimu_sama/pseuds/girahimu_sama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marik is bored of waiting for his injuries to heal. Sequel to Human. Post-canon thiefshipping</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> I just felt like writing some smut woops :V it's basically just pwp. Also note: Bakura has Thief Kings appearance here! He is NOT in Ryou's body. My post canon verse has Yami Bakura regaining TKB's body. I don't feel this or my other oneshot is worth a citronshipping label though. I only really view citronshipping as taking place in Ancient Egypt.

The ensuing weeks following the accident served as a constant reminder that neither of them were as invincible as they had once felt.

Marik was lucky to have survived with no permanent injuries, aside from scarring on his front where shrapnel had clipped him. When he hadn't been so doped up on painkillers and anaesthesia and the full implications of the crash sunk in the first thing he'd been upset about... was his bike of all things. Bakura didn't blame him, he knew how much Marik loved his bike. It had been totalled beyond repair, but it could be replaced. Marik's life could not.

A detail that Bakura took morbid interest in was that the driver of the vehicle that had collided with Marik, injuring several other people in the process, had died in the same hospital. Bakura had tuned into the following investigation, hearing that he'd been driving drunk. Upon learning this, Bakura had thought darkly that he was lucky to have passed on in the emergency room. The thief wouldn't have let him walk away with his life, and he wouldn't have been merciful about it either.

Yugi and his friends sent Marik their regards while he was in the hospital – Ishizu's doing no doubt. Bakura looked at the cards and various gifts distastefully, but he knew Marik didn't mind Yugi so he kept his snide comments to himself. Ryou flew in from Japan to visit as well, and Bakura was glad that he hadn't brought any of the brats with him.

When Marik was well enough to leave the hospital, Bakura found himself thrust into unfamiliar waters. Marik would make a full recovery, so long as he rested often and didn't over exert himself, which left the majority of the housework to Bakura. Before he'd rarely done any chores. Only when he was really bored or when Marik got on his case did he do the dishes or cook or clean. Now it was a constant responsibility. Ishizu and Rishid came over often to check up on their brother and help where they could, but Bakura still had to do most of the work.

Despite it all, he found that he actually didn't mind it. Marik gave him shit for it, mockingly praising what a good maid he was, but Bakura would only smirk and tell him to go back to bed and take his old lady nap.

After all, it was preferable to coming home to an empty house.

He could never seem to shake the feeling that Marik had almost died, it ate at him like acid. Too often he found himself shifting closer to the other male, reaching out and stroking his hair when he thought Marik was asleep, only to recoil in disgust with himself. He was weak, growing attached like this, but he knew it was too late. Marik had said he loved him, and that hadn't been the first time either. He could make excuses all he wanted; they were drunk, they were tired, Marik was high on painkillers. It didn't matter. What lay between them was clear as day, but gods be damned if Bakura would ever admit it.

Only Marik had this kind of power over him.

Currently they lay in bed, Bakura flipping through his phone absentmindedly. Marik was leaned against him, an energy buzzing in the air between them. Bakura knew he was restless, and he knew why as well, but he pointedly ignored it.

Marik shifted his knee, bumping it against Bakura's thigh, and softly nestled his face into the crook of the thief's shoulder. The gesture would have been subtle if Bakura was ignorant to the silent language they'd developed, but he didn't react, feigning interest in his phone instead. He noticed Marik was leaning weight onto his injured arm – it was mostly healed by this point, but that didn't stop him from complaining about soreness every so often.

Marik's fingers toyed with the front of his shirt, his lips brushing against his neck. Bakura gave a measured exhale as Marik's leg found its way between his own, thigh deliberately putting a slight pressure on his crotch.

“Marik,” Bakura said, turning his face away as the other male's lips trailed up to his ear. The small touches already had his pulse quickening in anticipation. “You know as well as I do where this is going.”

“I can't help it,” Marik murmured, letting the tip of his finger slide down Bakura's abdomen. “I want you.”

“You're still recovering.” Bakura pointed out, though he really didn't want to dissuade Marik's efforts. The former tomb keeper flopped onto his back, wincing even though he'd done the action as gently as possible.

“It's been like two months,” Marik all but whined.

“It's not like you broke the arm you jerk off with.” Bakura grunted.

A devious look came over Marik's face and he rolled back over, placing his hands on the headboard beside Bakura's head, knees on either side of his waist. Bakura swallowed, wanting nothing more than to grab his hips and grind them down against his cock. Instead he eyed the bruising, still a concerning dark colour, and the freshly healed scar on his torso. Marik hadn't been wearing a shirt so it was all in plain view.

“If I didn't know better I'd say you were avoiding me,” Marik said. Bakura scoffed and set his phone down. It wasn't that he was avoiding him, it was that he _really_ didn't want to do anything to jeopardize Marik's health.

“You shouldn't put strain on yourself until you're completely recovered.” He turned his attention away from the intensity of Marik's gaze. “You know how we... usually are.”

“If you're so concerned about it,” Marik reached over and grabbed something, “you do all the work this time. Dictate the pace. _Make sweet gentle love to me, Bakura._ ” He snickered that last part, slapping the bottle into Bakura's hands and then briefly moving off of him to kick off his night pants. “Seriously though, I'm not delicate. Stop doting on me. It's weird.”

Something that made him feel queasy stirred in his stomach at Marik mentioning _making love_ , even jokingly. He looked down at the bottle, and then back up at the other male straddling him. Rolling his eyes when he realized Marik wasn't backing down, he paused to remove his own shirt.

“You're not kidding.” Other parts of the conversation caught up to him and he suddenly became indignant. “And what was that about you doing all the work, implying I just lay there and take it like a bitch?”

“Don't you?” Marik leaned in so that their noses were touching, smirking against his lips.

Bakura huffed, coating his fingers in the lubricant and reaching around to press them against Marik's entrance. He heard with satisfaction Marik's breath catch as he slid a finger into him – well, that was _one_ way to wipe the smug look off of his face. He wasted no time in filling him with another.

Marik arched against him, bringing himself closer so Bakura's fingers could work deeper. The thief sucked at his collarbone, and it wasn't long until he felt quiet panting against his ear and hardness pressed against his stomach. Bakura's free hand gripped Marik's ass as the other male rocked against him slightly, cock rubbing against warm skin. Marik made a pretty little noise in the back of his throat, and Bakura coaxed it into the open air by curving his fingers just so.

“Now who's taking it like a bitch?” Bakura said, though his own voice was slightly breathless. “You seem awfully eager to have me fuck you. That starved, Ishtar?”

Marik preferred to be the one doing the fucking, not that Bakura had an issue with that. Marik always had an incessant need for control, unlike the thief who thought himself more flexible and able to adapt to the ebb and flow of whatever situation he was in. Even with all the injuries he'd sustained, for Marik to allow this so easily seemed odd. Perhaps there was more to it.

“Yes,” Marik growled back in response to his taunt, fisting a hand in Bakura's hair and pulling his head to the side so he could attack his neck. “I got hit by a goddamn car, I think you should be a little nicer to me.”

Bakura groaned in not-quite pain. “Thought you just said I shouldn't dote on you.”

“Semantics.”

Marik bit him, surely leaving a bruise on the already sensitive flesh. When Bakura moaned, lips sealed over his own, swallowing the sound. Obviously impatient by this point, Marik drew back when he was satisfied and Bakura took it as a sign to take his fingers out of him. Pain flashed across Marik's face for a moment as he straightened up and he wrapped his arms around his middle, prompting instant concern from the thief.

“You sure about this?” He asked, his hands settling on Marik's hips, thumb rubbing small circles against his skin without him even thinking about it. Marik waved him off with an air of annoyance.

“I'm fine, just get on with it.”

Bakura rolled his eyes at his attitude, struggling a bit as he shifted to lower his own pants. He went to coat his own erection in the lubricant, but Marik was one step ahead of him.

The former tombkeeper sat on his thighs, stroking him in his hand. Bakura hissed when the cold gel met his heated flesh, Marik flicking his wrist with his movements, squeezing him lightly on the up draw. The thief's breathing quickened, wanting to thrust into Marik's hand, but he didn't have much movement with the weight atop him. His jaw fell slightly when Marik's free hand dipped lower to massage his balls, a pleasant heat tightening in his abdomen.

He had to bite his lip to keep from groaning in frustration when Marik pulled away. It was only for a moment as he adjusted himself and then, much to Bakura's confusion, he pressed his length against the thief's, taking them both in hand.

“You know,” Marik grinned as he jerked the both of them together, “I might be the one taking it but I'd say you're still the one getting fucked.”

Bakura couldn't reply. The heat rubbing against him and the hand working over their slick cocks left him able to think about little else. Marik's thumb circled his head, running back and forth over the slit, nerves sending a jolt of pleasure through him as he writhed underneath him. The former tomb keeper's eyes were dark as they watched him, dominant even in his own flustered state. Bakura came to realize he'd never had any control at all.

And he was fine with that.

Reluctantly drawing away before either of them could get too worked up, Marik aligned himself with Bakura's erection. Without any further hesitation, he sank down, sucking air in through his teeth as he was penetrated from below.

Bakura put his fist to his mouth to keep from making an embarrassing noise. The tightness that engulfed him was hot, far warmer than Marik's hand had been. He resisted the urge to roll his hips up and drive himself deeper, allowing the other male to move at his own pace. Marik braced himself with his hands on Bakura's legs as he settled, brow furrowed in unmistakable discomfort.

Bakura ran his palms up Marik's thighs, smoothing them over the junction of his hips and up his sides, coaxing him to relax. He then took the other male's cock in hand and leisurely stroked him. Marik gave a soft cry as he started to move, rocking his hips into a steady rhythm. Bakura could see that he wanted to go faster, to dive right into it, but he couldn't without agitating his injuries. He was forced to take it slow.

Bakura only began to rock back up against him when he was sure Marik could take it. He didn't mind having to hold back. If anything, easing into it only made it better, the heat in his belly building to an even greater finish. He moaned as Marik grabbed his chin and tilted his head up to kiss him, dropping his cock for the time to draw their bodies close – still mindful of the bruising. He nipped at Marik's neck, lips travelling lower. Marik sighed and let his hand drag through the thief's blizzard white hair.

Bakura's lips stopped when they brushed against the ridge of the scar cutting across his torso. He traced it with his finger contemplatively. Their rhythm came to a standstill for the time being, as though both were thinking the same thing.

Marik looked down at him, thumb gently swiping over the discoloured skin beneath Bakura's right eye – the jagged marking he'd received while he lived in Ancient Egypt. “I didn't think I'd have to receive any more scars in my lifetime.”

Bakura simply let his forehead rest against Marik's, murmuring his agreement. His hands played at the small of Marik's back, where the carvings that held the Pharaoh's memories began. “You have enough for us both.”

“Bakura.”

The thief looked up so their foreheads could rest against each others instead

“Fuck me.”

He didn't need to be told twice. Under normal circumstances he would have thrown Marik onto his back and pounded into him without a second thought, but he couldn't do that now. Instead he laid back, kicking off his pants, which were still bunched around his calves, and gripped Marik's hips firmly. Marik in turn spread his knees a little wider apart, bracing his hands on Bakura's chest now. Bakura thrust into the former tombkeeper, deep but not too hard, and Marik's hips snapped back to meet him, setting the pace once again. Bakura closed his eyes and relished in the warmth clenching around him.

“I think this is...” Marik breathed, and Bakura peered up to see him in a similar state of rapture,“the gentlest we've ever been.”

Bakura watched the other male dreamily, the satisfied moans spilling from him and the way he so willingly impaled himself on the thief's cock making his entire body flare with heat.

Going hard and fast as they normally did made it so easy to get lost, to not think about anything, just feel. And that was how they liked it, but now it was a whole different realm. Bakura felt everything, but he was forced to appreciate the other body before him as well. The subtle tremble against him, the rise and fall of Marik's chest as he panted, the shape of his mouth as it fell open, angled at the ceiling.

Nothing mattered but the closeness between them. It was everything. Marik was everything.

“I...” He started before he could stop himself, choking off as he remembered all he had lost and all he had _nearly_ lost.

Marik bent himself forward a bit, running a hand up until it cupped Bakura's cheek, but the thief recoiled as if in pain. “You can say it, you know.”

“I can't.” Bakura shook his head. His chest felt like it was being compressed. It was unbearable, even as he drew closer to the edge, the pleasure building in his lower body couldn't drown it out. He couldn't take it.

And then Marik pulled him back up into a sitting position, circling his arms around him, his movements becoming more fevered. Bakura acted, grabbing his face and thrusting his tongue into his mouth. He kissed him, again and again, clutching Marik to him as tightly as he could without hurting him, trying to convey what he couldn't through words. His hand fumbled between them for Marik's cock again, jerking him in long strokes from base to tip. Marik rolled his head back on his shoulders moaning with every breath he took.

Bakura spoke against his jaw. “Are you–“

“Yeah,” Marik barely managed out before he shuddered and came hard over the thief's hand, mouth open in a soundless cry. His body began to relax so Bakura took the initiative and moved forward, placing Marik onto his back as softly as he could. Bakura thrust for as long as it took until his mind went blank and the pleasure knotting within him came crashing down. He dropped his forehead to Marik's clavicle, mumbling incoherently in bliss, and then rolled off of him.

He lay there for an undetermined amount of time, until a touch at his hair brought him back to reality. Marik had turned onto his side and was giving him an odd little smile, head propped up on his hand. Bakura didn't know what he was smiling about and that made his usual pout appear on his face.

“I hope you're happy.”

“I am.” Marik assured. And then he went to push himself up, perhaps too quickly. He immediately tensed and sunk back to the bed, holding his middle. “Ugh... shit. Help me up, I'm not sleeping like this.”

“Told you it was a bad idea.” Bakura couldn't help but snicker at him, going to assist Marik and leading him off the bed.

“Totally worth it though,” Marik grinned back ruefully, “if only to see you look so content.”

Bakura just snorted at him, but he couldn't stop thinking about Marik's words long after they'd gotten themselves cleaned up.

 


End file.
